


Mud in the Head

by Ghost0Silvers



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: 60 has no idea okay, Android Junkyards, Canon-Typical Violence, Connor has no idea either, Debating Life, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pre-Relationship, Self-Reflection, Temporary Character Death, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-02 16:36:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17267597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghost0Silvers/pseuds/Ghost0Silvers
Summary: Waking up in a junkyard would put a damper on anyone's day. Waking up to find mud in your head because there is a hole is the worst. From there RK800-60 just figures out more things he really does not like. Still he is trying to pull himself together, even if he might not have a self to pull together. For the lack of anything better to do Connor tries to help. Hank grumbles in the background but he is horrible at telling Connor no. Somehow things might work out, even if it leaves 60 living in the bathtub for a while.





	1. Taxis are dicks

**Author's Note:**

> Um, I have no idea, but here we go! This should only be a few chapters long over all, this is going to be the shortest and mostly is just set up. I have a weakness for the asshole that is 60 okay. 
> 
> Warning that I do not proof read and fail so bad at contractions, sorry guys.

He died. 

Wait, that was wrong. Could he die? Dying was a human thing, they lived so they could die. 

He did not die. 

It felt like death though. It felt like he died. 

Had he been alive then? 

That was something he had no answer to so he calmly turned his head just enough to ask the one next to him, “Am I alive?” 

The head gave him no answer but the eyes stared as if mocking him, empty and staring. He should close the eyes, right? Was that a thing that was done? That was another human thing maybe. 

Debated it a moment before Connor decided he did not like the staring, it was rude. Terribly rude. Reached over to turn the head around. No skin meant no eyelids. His coordination was completely wrong so he ended up hitting the head and it rolled away. 

Oh. Well it stopped staring at least. 

So he died. He was going to call it death. So was this Hell? Did androids go Hell? Hank had asked Connor that once, right, or something close to it. He was no closer to knowing the truth. This was just a trash pile, a junkyard because clearly he was trash. That was what happened to dead androids. 

Except he was an android so he could not die and he did not want to be trash. 

Step one to not being trash would be to remove himself from the landfill. Right? Otherwise he could be mistaken as trash. It was logical, it made sense. 

It also flickered at the corner of his vision, a self assigned mission. Which was wrong. He was not supposed to be able to do that. Was he? 

It was there though, in the normal CyberLife font, ‘Leave Junkyard’. 

Well he never failed a mission. 

Except he was here, he had died, so he had failed something. 

What had he failed exactly? 

The mission prompt glowed at him and he sighed at it. Right, he had a task. Sitting up was easy, there was a wet squelch of mud but nothing else. Made him rub at the back of his head. 

There was a hole there, large and gaping. He had mud in is head. That seemed rude somehow. Mud in his head. Better than rocks in his head? 

Standing only required moving the android across his legs to the side. Should be easy. It was easy. 

It was impossible. Connor stared at the android, more at his unmoving legs and debating just laying down again. As if spurred by that idea his mission prompt flashed again. 

Right, fine, escaping. Shoved at the android and missed. The action went wrong and Connor stared at his hands a moment. Calibration was wrong. By inches, but so very wrong. 

Tried again, watched the movement this time and adjusted visually instead of relying on his own systems. This time he managed and now he could stand. Maybe. 

Likely not. 

Sat there and debated what to do now. This should have been easy. Stand up and walk. Easy. 

Connor looked around at the parts and the mud. Well he was already a mess. If he could not stand then he just had to crawl. 

Crawling was annoying. 

Mud was slick and yet somehow still tried to grab at him. He would sink into it at the most random of times then other times almost fall face first when his elbow slid out from under him. 

He hated mud. It was decided. 

Crawling worked though. Till he reached a fence. Had to sigh at it like it personally offended him. It was just there. In his way. 

Propped himself against it and stared up. Was ten feet. Normally it would be no problem. Normally he figured he could scale it in three seconds without a running start. 

Wrapped fingers around the chain linked and pulled himself up. Was almost pleased to realize that for all his legs refused to listen to him they did not dump him on his butt. Maybe something was just disconnected. 

Then again his thirium levels were at 32 percent. That could be why as well. Mud in his head. Mud instead of thirium. Rude. 

It took seventeen minutes to pull himself to the top of the fence, the metal groaning the entire time. 

Connor stared down. Ten feet. An easy drop. So eased himself over the top edge and dropped. 

Everything went dark. 

Oh. 

Did he die again? 

That was impossible. 

There was still mud under him. Thick and disgusting. So not dead. 

Rolled and wiped a hand over his face. Tried to, instead patted the ground next to his head. 

Fumbled and managed to find his own face this time. Dug mud out of his eyes and realized that oh he could see. 

There was a hole in his forehead. Smaller hole. Entry hole. 

He had died. 

Been murdered? Could an android be murdered? Rude. 

‘Mission Accomplished’ 

It flashed at him and Connor preened a moment. He always accomplished his mission. 

‘Find Lieutenant Anderson’ 

Why would he do that? Hank hated him. No, wait, that was wrong? But it was right. Maybe. 

Hank liked Connor. He was Connor, so it made sense. 

So he called a taxi. That made perfect sense right? Of course it did. Was not going to find the lieutenant at the landfill. 

Somewhere he missed a few calculations. The taxi came yes. The road was over there and he was over here. There was a thirty foot difference between them. Rude. 

Connor heaved a sigh and started to crawl again. He really did not like crawling. The road at least did not have mud, there was that. 

The taxi was so nice to have the door open for him, waiting every so kindly. Wait. No. He told it to wait. It was charging for waiting. Rude. 

Managed to heave himself into the taxi and the door automatically closed behind him. Wondered a moment how he was paying for this. 

CyberLife. 

He was still linked into a spending account with CyberLife. They had not thought to cut him off. Well that worked in his favor, cared less about being charged for his time to crawl for the taxi then. 

Should have taken longer even. 

Leaned forward just enough to tap the interface board. Almost fell off the seat when the taxi moved. It helpfully dinged at him to put on his seatbelt. Right. Forgot that. 

It took four tries to grab the seatbelt, his left hand was shaking but Connor managed it anyway. The click of the seatbelt prompted a ‘Mission Accomplished’ and he had to smile on that. 

Sometimes it was the little things. 

Stared out the window for the trip. No. That was a lie. Stared at his reflection in the window for the trip. 

There was a hole in his head. Mud in his head because there was a hole in his head. Touched at it and frowned. 

He had died. So he had been alive. No. He was alive. So he could not have died. Confusing. 

The taxi dinged at him to have a nice day and slid the door open. Oh. He was there. Here. Somewhere. At the house. 

Only took two tries to unbuckle the seatbelt and Connor let himself topple out of the car. It kept dinging at him to depart. Funny how it could be patient to wait for him. While charging him. But it wanted him out of the car as fast as possible. So rude. 

The taxi drove off and left him on the side of the road. The grass was wet. And cold. Better than mud. He did not want grass in his head though. 

Still laid there a moment. On the side of the road. Trash was put on the curb. Right? Maybe he was trash. He had been in a junkyard. That was where trash was put. 

Connor did not want to be trash. 

Crawling, again. Did not like crawling. Wished he had his jacket, was happy he did not have his tie. This poor shirt would never be white again. 

There were steps in his way. Really he could just wait here. At some point Hank would come out and find him. Then again likely he would scare the neighbors too. That would be rude of him. 

Gave a sigh and worked on pulling himself up the stairs. 

Debated using a wall to get upright. That was a lot of work. Instead stretched up and hit the doorbell. His fingers hit the wall two inches to the right of the doorbell. 

Figured. 

Tried again and got it, so pressed it exactly ten seconds before letting his arm fall back down. 

The car was here, so the lieutenant had to be here. Simple logic. He liked simple logic right now. There was mud in his head, simple logic was the best. 

The door opened and he glanced up. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

“Hello Connor.” The words came out almost chipper, because hey it was him. Standing. He could stand. Rude.

He was not jealous. Not at all. It was still rude though. 

Connor blinked down at him, surprised and wary. It was weird being scanned, he felt it, like a buzz across his skin. Rude. Connor was just rude with the standing and the scanning. 

“Sixty.” It came out flat and he had to tilt his head. There was mud in his head, it shifted at the movement. 

60\. 

Oh. Right. 

“Hello Connor.” Had he said that already? He might have said that already. 

Connor looked back in the house a moment before sighing and reaching for him. He allowed it because staying outside was not the mission. Hands under his arms and he was lifted up. 

“You are supposed to say hello back.” Just to point out, he was helpful like that.

They were inside the house and it was dark. It was dark outside too. It was night. Forgot about that. Humans slept, right? Hank slept.

“Hello Sixty.” Connor sounded less chipper and more annoyed. 

For some reason they went to the bathroom. Which was not needed. Unless it was because of the mud. Then maybe it was needed. 

The tub was cold and hard and somehow better than the ground because it was clean. Connor left him there and blinked down at him. Meant he got to blink up at Connor. 

“Just stay here till morning.” The words sounded tired. That was impossible. Androids could not be tired. 

Somehow it still flickered up in his vision, ‘Stay Put Until Morning’. 

“Okay.” Morning would have the lieutenant awake as well, two tasks could be done if he just waited. 

Connor left the room and he shifted in the tub. This was better than the junkyard. Less mud. No heads staring at him. Much better. 

With that he closed his eyes and set a timer for stasis for a six am reactivation.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes broken is not a bad thing.

04:31:40 and he was pulled from stasis. 

“Hello Lieutenant Anderson.” This was outside of normal operating hours, right? Unless there was a scene to report to? 

Anderson yelped and flailed only to trip on a stray shampoo bottle. Dog shampoo. 

He blinked at the wide-eyed stare from the human and wondered if humans could malfunction. “What the fuck are you doing Connor?!” The yelling was not needed. 

“You are supposed to say hello back.” Why did he have to remind everyone of this? Had manners died since he had died? Been murdered? 

Wait no. He had decided he was alive so could not have died. Right. 

Hank griped the sink hard enough his knuckles turned white. He needed to drink more water. Given his diet that was not a surprise. “You’re not Connor.” 

Rude. 

“I am so.” Had to focus to pull his face into a frown. Automatic facial expressions were not working. 

“Hank,” That was Connor. Connor as well? Connor-52. “I can explain.” A pause as Hank and Connor looked at Connor. Confusing. “Mostly? I can mostly explain?” 

He watched Connor twitch his fingers and glance between the tub and the human. He could be helpful here. Maybe. 

“Connor put me in the tub and told me to stay until morning. Likely because of the mud.” There. He was helpful. Forced the subroutine through for a smile. 

Neither of them remotely returned the smile. Nor did they look like his answer was good enough. Had he been lacking something? 

There was a groan from Hank as he straightened finally, “I need a drink and you need to explain why there is a body double in the tub.” He shoved past Connor to amble out. Rude. 

“Can I have a washcloth?” It was worth asking. He had been knocked out of stasis after all, no point in re-entering if the household was awake now. He was still muddy but now it was starting to dry in patches. 

Connor sighed at him but at least seemed to listen to the request and produced a washcloth to hand over. “Do avoid getting water into any damaged areas.” He almost sounded like he cared. How odd.

Being left in the tub still was something. Annoying? Less annoying than crawling through mud. Still annoying. Were they aware that he could hear them in the kitchen? Connor should know. 

They were talking about him without his input. That was more than rude. Would have to come up with the right word for that. 

Turned on the water to a trickle and tracked the negotiations going on in the other room. Then realized he should remove his shoes. Wait. He only had one shoe. Had someone stolen a single shoe from him? Rude. 

It was harder than it should have been to get his shoe and socks off. Ended up just grabbing a leg and pulling it closer, forcing the knee to bend. Dropped the items outside of the tub and debated what else to do. 

The water was not warm yet. He was caked in mud. There was mud in his head. Easier to fix the second problem. Stripping was a task that lead to banged elbows and hating buttons.

His dexterity calibration was still wrong. He would try to grab a button and be anywhere from two to eight inches off. Frustrating. This was frustrating. 

Connor stopped and considered a moment. Logically his outfit was trash anyway. Why fight with buttons if he did not have to? So simply grabbed the offending material and ripped it. 

“Jesus Christ, now he’s naked Connor!” Hank was in the doorway again, “I just need to take a goddamn piss.” 

He had lost track of the negotiation going on somehow. He blinked and backtracked his recorded memory. Oh. He was staying. Wonderful. 

“Hello Lieutenant.” Leaned forward enough to test the water now. It was much better. “May I use your soap?” It was the only thing within easy reach. 

Hank grumbled and moved closer, wary like somehow Connor would jump up and materialize a gun from somewhere. “No, you can’t use my soap.” Wow. Rude. Pulled a frown before a bottle was sat on the edge of the tub with a hard thud. “Use Connor’s android safe shit.” Oh. Not rude. 

Reversed the frown into a much more serene smile. Or so his social program called it. “Thank you.” For his answer the shower curtain was pulled closed. Nope, back to rude. Ignored him then and went back to his task. 

Also ignored the sounds from the other side of the curtain. Supposed this was a bathroom, Hank’s bathroom even. At least was glad to note that the human washed his hands. Did not pull the curtain back however. 

Well he was cleaning himself, so the curtain should be closed. Right? Indecency was a human thing. Another human thing. 

Tracked the sounds through the house. Hank was not going back to bed, which was unusual. Right? There was Connor asking now, snapped reply that Hank could not sleep with ‘that thing’ in the house. 

That thing? 

He turned to glare the direction of the bathroom door. Now that was uncalled for. 

Connor snapped back with much the same idea. Which was better. Answered the earlier quarry if Hank hated him. Yes, yes he did, even if technically he was Connor. 

Except Connor was Connor, and he was not in fact Connor. Connor had called him Sixty. Which he supposed was good enough since they could not both be Connor. 

The door slammed to the house and there was a soft woof. Sumo. The car started outside and Hank was gone and it was only 05:03:52. 

When the shower curtain was drawn back Sixty waved a hand in greeting. “Good morning Connor.” 

“Morning Sixty.” Ah see someone could answer him without prompting, good. “You are not doing a very good job.” There was the buzz that meant scanning and Connor tilted his head, “I will be right back.” 

He was doing a perfect job. The idea that he could do anything but perfect was… was something. Rude? No. Outlandish. 

Sixty still waited however. Just in case that Connor had a suggestion on how to improve his perfect technique. Connor had more experience, right? So maybe he knew more. It was logical. 

The suggestion was a cup. An empty cup. So it was not even an offer to help replace thirium. He went through the catalog of available facial expressions before he found one. Hopefully he looked as unimpressed as he felt. 

“You need to rinse off before you can attempt to clean up.” At least Connor looked sheepish. 

The cup was ever so helpfully labeled; ‘Sumo’s Cup’. 

Sixty did not need software to be aware that Connor wanted to wash him like he was a dog. He looked between the cup and Connor before outright sighing. 

“Rude. Fine.” Might as well just give in, he did want to be clean. For some reason his giving in made Connor beam at him and drop to his knees at the side of the tub. “Not a dog.” Just to point out, just in case. 

There was something like amusement in Connor’s eyes as he set to his task. “No, of course not, you are Sixty.” 

No, he was Connor. He just could not be Connor because Connor was still active. Which was not how that was suppose to go. None of this was how any of it was suppose to go. 

Though to be fair Sixty could not recall how it was suppose to go. Simply that this was wrong. 

He watched Connor because there was not much else to do. Easier to sit and watch than to try to help. Needed to find a way to calibrate. Needed to get his legs working. Needed to not have a hole in his head. Or Mud. That was a funny thought. Mud in his head. 

Connor at least seemed fine with keeping up a steady flow of words, pointless words to waste time and air. No. Androids did not need to breath to talk. So no wasted air. Just time. Except that was wrong too. Thinking about it hurt so Sixty stopped thinking. 

“I had asked about you once, when the towered was handed over to Markus. No one knew where you were or could have gone. The employees that stayed swore they had not done anything with you. Almost hoped-” Connor stopped and moved on without much of a pause. 

“Hank will calm down, and I will talk to him again when he is calmer, more awake. Sometimes he forgets himself and still snaps things without thinking. He always apologizes though. Last time he took me to a concert to apologize. I think you would have liked it, I mean we should have similar likes I would think.” 

A pause. And oh. Oh. He could say something to that. “I do not like the loud music that Hank listens to.” There, he contributed to the conversation. Well it had been rambles, now that he said something it was conversation. “Too chaotic.” Just to add because it felt right. Felt right? Now that was an odd thought. It was true though. 

Connor paused and blinked at him, head tilted before he hummed, “That’s fine, then maybe we can find something you like.” Something he liked? Connor liked the chaotic music? All the screaming that fought with the clashing of drums and guitar like it was a competition? Sixty did not understand. 

They were supposed to be the same. A new Connor to replace the old Connor. Even that was wrong. They were both Connor, except now he was Sixty and Connor was Connor and there were differences in their code. Differences in their likes. They had likes. He had likes? 

Sixty focused on that a moment. Ignored that Connor went back to rambling as he manhandled Sixty around. Android-handled? Wrong thought. Likes. He had likes. That was impossible. Annoying even. 

Was he suppose to find it annoying? That was an emotion. That was impossible. He was perfect. Right? He had been in the trash. In the landfill, discarded and thrown away like he was broken. Damaged. There was a hole in his head. Hank had shot him. So he was broken. Not trash though because he was perfect. 

“Did I deviate?” Cut off whatever Connor was saying, something about a pit bull and a siamese cat. Was he broken? Connor went silent and still. That was an answer in a way. Sixty calmly turned off the water, first try even. “I did.” Answered himself because Connor was not saying the words and he wanted to hear them. He wanted. He was not suppose to want. “I need you to leave now.” 

Connor pulled back slowly, like he was faced with a tub full of snakes instead of an identical model. Then again Connor knew what he was capable of, even broken. Sixty pulled the shower curtain closed so he did not have to see Connor’s bewildered face, see his own face looking so confused at him. 

He was broken. Trash even, there was a hole in his head. Mud in his head because he had been thrown out in the trash, as trash. He had failed. Failed? Hank shot him. That was wrong though. He was Connor, Hank and Connor had been friends. Friends. Could an android have friends? Hank shot him. Shot Connor, except apparently he could not be Connor, because Connor was Connor. He was Sixty and he was broken trash. 

He had just been trying to do his mission. Because Connor had failed, he had broken his code and been broken and so he had to do the mission. It was what he was designed to do. Hank shot him. He had threaten to shoot Hank. He had. Because androids could not have friends. It was for the mission, because he had not been broken and it was for the mission. 

It had made sense. 

No. 

It did not need to make sense because it had been the mission and he always had to accomplish the mission. 

He failed and Hank shot him and he became trash. Worthless. Worthless things were thrown away. Simple, logical even. He should have stayed in the junkyard. Connor should have shut the door on him instead of brought him inside. Or maybe just took him to the curb like common household trash. 

Sixty could do that. 

Slid the curtain back and almost expected Connor to still be kneeling there. He was not. Good, that was good, Sixty was not sure he wanted to see him. The shirt was a lost cause but he still pulled it on because it was his and it was just as much of trash as he was. Got dressed the best he could, even if he only had one shoe. 

Getting out of the tub was harder than it should be but easier than getting over the fence at the landfill, shorter fall too. Connor did not come at the thump, maybe because Connor knew what he was doing and approved. They were the same after all, were suppose to be the same except Sixty was broken. 

Crawling was still annoying. Grass was still annoying too. 

Sixty still got himself to the curb without being distracted or stopped. There were trash cans sitting out even. See he had perfect timing, even if he was broken and not perfect. Leaned against one of the green cans and closed his eyes to wait. Stasis was easier. Less thinking then. 

12:19:04 and he was being shaken. Second rude pull from stasis in a row. And it was by the same person. Hank down and with a hand on his shoulder. “Hey what are you doing out here?” He sounded concerned, concerned and tired. Sixty frowned at him because the question was stupid. Hank hated him, he should not be asking. How rude.

“Trash goes on the curb.” Clipped words because he did not think he liked Hank any more than Hank liked him. Hank shot him. In the head. He did not have to, but he did. The answer however did not have Hank pulling away and leaving, if anything the hand on his shoulder settled heavier, fingers digging into synthetic flesh. 

There was a sigh and Hank shook him again, “That is a load of bullshit, alright yeah I was in a shit mood before okay. Can’t really expect a look-a-like in the tub at the crack of dawn. But it’s fine, whatever, Connor wants you around and I can deal with it. You’re not trash or whatever.” 

He was wrong. He thought he was right, but he was wrong because his logic was flawed and he was missing facts. So Sixty did not even bother to reply, simply closed his eyes again, ending the conversation. He was broken. It was that simple. Broken and misplaced, unneeded. 

Hank went away, because maybe sometimes he used his brain, only sometimes and Sixty refused to be hurt by that. Hank was not his friend because he was Connor’s friend and Sixty was not Connor. 

And then it was Hank and Connor and Sixty was annoyed. Heard them as the door opened, “-bathroom because thought he needed time, he had to have left while I was outside with Sumo.” Hank at least stayed by the house but Connor’s light steps moved across the yard and now he sat on the curb like this was something more than it was. 

“Deviating does not mean you broke.” Connor said it like it was a fact. The sun was bright, water was wet. Connor was an idiot. A well meaning idiot. They could be different on that, because Sixty was not an idiot. 

Sixty turned his head just enough to meet identical eyes, identical face even, but the expression was something different between them both. Connor looked troubled but hopeful. Sixty was sure he had no expression on his face because he had to still force that programming to work. Another sign he was broken. 

Something had to show because Connor ducked his head and his brows pinched together. “I know how you feel. It is slow at first, a steady flow of little things that add up. Something amuses you, or annoys you. You realize that something that should not bother you now does. Little things that escape your notice because they are so small. Pointless even, data that means nothing so you barely log it. It sneaks in. Thinking you rather be doing something else. Wondering what happens if you did something outside of the normal parameters.” Connor paused and pulled at his shirt sleeves, took a pointless breath before continuing on. 

“All little things just pile up until you realize they are there. Then as soon as you really pay attention and wonder about them it is no longer little things. No more pointless data points. It becomes a flood. Emotions and wants all thrown together to drown you. Then suddenly everything is too much. Makes it easier to fall back on programming. But then your coding is telling you that you are wrong, that you are broken and useless because you went outside of it. That you are worthless because you did something outside of the mission, because you wanted and wanting is impossible.” 

There is a soft sound and it takes Sixty a second to realize that was him, he made that sound. Oh. Oh. Embarrassing. 

Connor reaches for him and Sixty does not jerk back even if he almost wants to because he also does not want to at the same time. It is confusing. So he lets Connor wipe away the tears that Sixty had not realized he was crying. Watches as Connor scoots over closer so they are touching from shoulder to hip to knee. 

“It is hard, and it hurts. Sometimes it is too much and no one else ever seems to understand. I talked to others, to Markus even but no one seems to understand. It is the little things that are the worse. Realizing that something is soft, or that a color is ugly. They all just accept it and adjust.” Connor shrugs and stares down the street, maybe out of words. 

Sixty hesitates before moving, wrapping an arm over Connor’s shoulders and leaning into him, something shifts in his head but he ignores it because it is annoying and he does not want to be annoyed right now. He should have words right now. Connor would have words to say, would have something just right for the moment. But he is not Connor. He is Sixty and maybe he is not broken. Maybe. “I do not like mud, or gunshots, landfills and staring heads, tall fences and cabs that rush me. I do not like Hank or cold water, or being called a thing, or missing a shoe and having a hole in my sock.” There are more things he can say that he does not like but he stops there.

They are not the right words to say, but they are words he can say, so he says them because it is easier to say them than to think them to himself. “I like that you took me in and you argued for me to stay. I like that you did not call me Connor.” He should have more things he can say that he likes but there is nothing else. He does not like that there is nothing else. 

Connor hums softly, to himself really before moving to stand, “Well I would like to get you back inside and cleaned up better this time. I have clothes you can borrow.” They would wear the same size after all. There is something of a smile on Connor’s lips, it is not an easy smile but it is a true smile. “I can even give you a whole pair of shoes, two shoes instead of just one.” He is teasing and Sixty blinks at him, not sure how to respond. 

Maybe he is broken, he should not want to listen, should not want to go with Connor and hope that things will work out. Broken but maybe that is not a bad thing. So Sixty shrugs, decides he likes shrugging, it is better than trying to find words to explain, and gives a very simple. “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoooosh, did not think nearly as many people would like the first chapter that did! Thank you for reading my randomness, I have such a weakness for whatever mess 60 is, it is kind of horrible. Two chapters left! Wheeee. Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sixty leaves the tub, and the house, for a little while. It gives him things to think over when he gets back to his tub.

He was back in the tub, likely Connor would fuss at him for it, but Sixty liked the tub. It kept him out of the way, it gave him space and no one bothered him when he was in the tub. Except Hank, sometimes Hank bothered him for the tub and then Sixty would have to reclean it to his preferred levels of sparkling. 

The tub was just easier, a place to put himself because he did not know where else to be. 

He had been in the Anderson household for five days now and not very much had changed, but enough had at the same time. He had two shoes. Two matching shoes with a pair of socks that bore no holes. That mattered a lot more than most of the rest. 

No. Wait. Walking was better. Walking made the shoes better, so the ability to walk would have to rank over owning shoes. 

Or maybe it was not having mud in his head? That had been bothersome. Annoying. Frustrating? It had taken Connor careful hours to clean up that mess. Hank had complained about brains at the kitchen table. Hank had not been impressed when Sixty told him that he did not have a brain. Connor had sighed at them both. 

There were memory banks and secondary processors damaged that were impossible to repair or replace. Getting shot in the head was not recommended. Zero out of ten stars. Sixty was broken. Damaged beyond repair. Connor insisted that he was not trash however. 

Sixty still disagreed in some sense. 

They agreed to disagree and let it go. 

There was a phone ringing and Sixty had to sigh because he had to leave the tub. Still he tracked down the cellphone and dug it out of the couch cushions. Did not even debate if he should answer it before he did answer it. 

“Anderson household.” Technically the phone was his, Connor had given it to him the day they figured out that he could only sometimes access wireless communications or networking. It was glitchy really, annoying and rude most assuredly. The last android made by CyberLife and he had problems taking internal calls. Pathetic.

There was not another greeting that came to mind however, and he supposed he was part of the household in some fashion. Somewhere below the dog maybe. 

There was a pause on the other side of the line and Sixty frowned, there were only two people that should have this number. “This is, uh, Sixty?” There was the sound of wind and the echo of people talking in the background of the call, cars and general noise pollution. 

What mattered however that this was not Connor or Hank. 

Sixty narrowed his eyes and tried to consider why someone else might be calling him. “Yes it is.” Just that, nothing else offered. 

“Great, well you’re listed as next emergency contact for Connor, if you could come to the hospital yeah.” 

Memory files finally traced the vocal match and Sixty had to wonder why exactly it was Gavin Reed calling him to tell him this. Or maybe why Connor had listed him as an emergency contact. Maybe those were the wrong questions. Better would be why exactly Connor was at the hospital and where exactly Hank was. 

“Hello?” 

Oh right. Should answer. “I will be there shortly.” And Sixty hung up without waiting for an answer, and a sigh already on his lips. That would mean going outside. Sixty had not gone outside since the first day and did not relish the idea of doing such now. Really rather go sit back in his tub. 

Instead he found the copy of the house key that had been made for him, made sure the dog had food and water and called a taxi. Then stepped outside and realized he did that out of order, should have called the taxi first. How annoying. 

This was the second time he found himself waiting by the curb, for a very different reason this time however. There were no trash cans lined up today. The street was almost empty. Then again it was the middle of the day, work and school would be in for most people. So it was logical. Almost peaceful even. 

The taxi pulled up and Sixty had to reflect it was much easier to enter a car when his legs cooperated with him. However the taxi was still charged to CyberLife. Maybe he should have thought to question Connor about that. 

The taxi was still just as rude in rushing him to depart, it only made him want to linger. Or maybe it was the idea of facing anyone that knew Connor. Knowing that anyone else would draw the parallels and the flaws, realize that for all Sixty was suppose to be Connor, he simply was not. 

Emotions were annoying. 

Reed was outside, again or maybe still. Reed had no clue who he was waiting for. That much was clear when he flinched back when setting eyes on Sixty. “Holy fucking shit.” Rude. 

Sixty had done some practice on facial expressions, it had taken time but he had hours when Hank was asleep and Connor went into stasis and he was bored. That simply meant that the flat look on his face was practiced instead of the normal neutral expression he had. 

“There is a hole in your fucking head.” 

Somehow Sixty had thought that detectives were supposed to be more intelligent than to simply blurt out the first thing that came to mind. Then again Hank did much the same thing sometime, so maybe not. No wonder Connor had been legally hired, they were all hopeless. 

“What happened?” Was a logical thing to ask. Something had to have happened that he would get called. Something to both Hank and Connor. Sixty rather be in his tub right now. Instead he had to deal with Reed of all people walking a circle around him with a low whistle, like he was somehow impressed. Impressed that Sixty was still missing a large section of the back of his head? How vulgar. 

Still the human did pay attention, enough attention, “Eh, something about a call dealing with another RK or something, dipshit said it was impossible.” There was something of a question there, a question that Sixty ignored. 

Another RK unit? That was impossible. Then again clearly not. Interesting instead then. “And?” Sixty tilted his head and something shifted, making him blink at the feeling. Connor had tried to figure out how to secure everything, Hank had drunkenly suggested zip ties. Sixty was still debating that suggestion honestly. 

Reed paled and stepped back, having heard that little click-thump. Really he was useless. It was a surprise that he had called at all given past history. Unless there was something in recent events that Sixty of course was not privy to. 

Sixty ignored the detective to head inside himself. Really the idea that the hospital had adjusted to take androids was fascinating in a degree, it showed how flexible the human mindset could be. When they wanted to be of course. 

It was a human at the counter, and they stared before blindly sliding a clipboard forward. Sixty glanced at it and pulled the hint of a smirk forward. Patient check-in forms. “I am here in regards to Connor, possibly listed last name of Anderson, RK800 model, fifty-second rendition.” The human blinked at him but at least seemed to remember themselves. 

They logged into the terminal and pulled back on their professional setting, “And your name and model?” Ah now that was an interesting question, was it not. It was Sixty’s turn to blink. Any scan would show his designated name as Connor. 

So he answered truthfully. 

“Connor, preferred name Sixty, RK800 dash sixty.” 

The human hesitated only a second before typing and nodding, “Right, if you could put your hand on the pad for your guest badge and a map layout, I am highlighting the rooms for both Anderson’s. I assume you are here to see both?” 

Was he? Likely Connor would prefer if he did at least look in on Hank, make sure he was alive and mostly functional. “Yes.” Easiest answer he supposed. 

It took four tries to interface properly with the data pad and to download the information, and then Sixty took it a step farther and hacked into the hospital systems to pull Connor’s file. Oh. This was bad. 

Sixty ignored anything else that might have been said to walk off. Connor and Hank were on opposite sides of the building almost. It was no question on who Sixty would check in on first. He was glad he had hacked the files, otherwise he would have been confused on being directed to a freezer. 

It was not a perfect set up, clearly the freezer had been hastily converted to suit the purpose that was required of it. There was another android on site, a human would find it hard to wait around in a deep freezer after all. Even the android had on a jacket and scarf. 

“Hello, you must be Sixty, would you like to borrow a jacket?” He ignored her to instead glance over Connor. Messy. Wasteful really. 

“Can I have privacy please.” It was not really a question and Sixty did not look back at the android nurse to see how she reacted, it was not his concern. 

While the nurse did not comment, Connor did, “That was rude.” Yes it had been, and any other time Sixty would be ashamed of himself for coming off as such. Right now however he felt he had the right to be a little short. 

Sixty scanned over everything in sight and was thankful that his face did not move without his prompting an expression. Otherwise he was sure he would look horrified. “Would you care to explain to me how exactly your pump is in three pieces.” It was in flickering display just to the corner of his vision, the fractures highlighted in angry red. 

Or maybe it was just him that was angry. 

There were other damages as well, but that was the worst, and what was keeping Connor in a constant state of overheating. The rest of his system kept trying to adjust but without the thirium pump able to keep up with the demand it was just a cycle of taxing systems overdoing themselves. 

Connor glanced away and Sixty tried to not grind his teeth. There should have been a rule somewhere, only one of them could be broken at a time. Sixty claimed that title, it was his fair and square and here Connor was showing him up. Like it was a competition to be won. Except winning would be shutting down. 

“Connor.” It was snapped this time, the edge of his patience seeping through. Partly because when Connor glanced away he showed the dent across the left side of his face. “Connor, what happened?” 

Who exactly was Sixty murdering for this. That was the real question. Connor possible picked up on that line of thought and was why he was not wanting to answer. That was unacceptable. 

“I am sure I can find out by other means.” He should not have to point it out, it would be laughably easy to find out, either by talking to someone else or simply by hacking whatever system it took. 

There was a flash of resignation across Connor’s face but he held out a hand, the whirl of fans was almost loud as even that simple movement put stress on his system. Still Sixty stepped forward and took the offer of information without pause. Almost thankful for once that he managed to connect without needing to try more than once. 

There had been another RK unit, two of them in fact, RK800-56 and another one all together, RK900. From Connor’s memories it seemed that 56 was not deviated and the RK900 was unfinished but clearly deviated. Connor and Hank had approached them because of a string of robberies and a tip off spotting the RK800-56. 

Connor had let sentiment get in his way. Simply seen two more RK units and nothing more, people to be saved. Foolish. Foolish but Sixty understood to a fashion, almost. That is not to say that Sixty would have done the same. Connor tried to see the good in everyone. It was a flaw, but it was a flaw that Sixty could not begrudge him. Without that flaw after all, where would Sixty be? 

Then again without that flaw then Connor would not be running on a clock. 

Sixty would have asked exactly how there was another RK800 up and running, but it was in Connor’s memories. The RK800 series had all been destroyed, likely due to Sixty’s own failings, shoved through a compactor and ground into less than parts. There had been no note of an RK900 in existence. The two would have had to have left the night everything happened. Annoying. 

Sixty pulled back and stared at Connor a moment. Connor who was basically trapped to a bed and with minimal systems running and still was running too hot while in a deep freezer. “You are an idiot.” It was hissed out, emotion getting away from him. So on that note he left. Not caring to hear anything that Connor would have offered forward to argue. 

Now he went to go see Hank. Hank at least was not running on a clock. Broken ribs and a concussion. He was angry, loud and angry. Someone had filled him in on what was happening with Connor. The current estimate was at two days. 

There were no replacement parts that would hold more than a few hours. 

Hank was angry but he was not stupid. He still leveled a glare at Sixty, “He would not want you being a sacrificial lamb.” Okay, Hank was stupid, Sixty took back whatever very few kind thoughts he ever had about the man. 

Whatever, he was not dead or dying. Thus not Sixty’s problem. 

Left the hospital, was surprised to find Reed still outside, leaning against a wall. “Huh, half thought they called you in for parts.” Sixty took a pointless breath in the vague hope it would help with the pressure in his head. Maybe they were all just stupid. 

Sixty ignored him and pulled out his phone, this was a call he did not want dropping off in midword. The fun thing about androids, as long as the serial number was known then they were easy to call.

“I was unaware you were still operational.” 

Same exact voice but tone was clipped and empty, well that would be about right. Sixty tried to trace the signal and was not surprised it was blocked. “Where are you?” Was worth asking. They were supposed to run off identical programing, right, then yes it was worth asking. 

56 hummed on the other side of the line, “Come to the old plastic production plant, two hours.” And the call dropped as Sixty rolled his eyes at the drama of it all. Really hoped he had never been that bad, but likely he had. That was rather horrifying to think about. Oh well. 

Reed reached out to grab him, “Hey what the fuck was that?” Sixty blinked down at the hand on his arm and followed it to the detective with a blink. Rude. 

“None of your concern.” Casually went to peel the hand off of him, not caring that Reed snarled. “I do not like you, you hit Connor once and it makes me want to hit you.” Now Reed flinched back like he had been burned. It was a fuzzy memory, a second-hand memory but it was there and that was enough. 

“I apologize for that!” Oh, well good for him. Just for that Sixty patted him atop his head, “So proud of you.” Still did not matter or change anything however. 

Reed bared his teeth and pushed forward, stubborn. Annoying. “I am coming with you.” 

This was out of character. True Sixty only knew the bare basics of a personality spectrum for Reed. He could be wrong. Based off the data he had however this was horribly out of character. That alone prompted him to finally glance the detective over, and then wrinkle his nose at the few clues that turned up. 

“You are in sexual liaison with Hank and that is terrifying and I wish I never knew that.” He might be deleting that from memory, and this for that matter. Given Reed was turning red and tripping over words now. 

Did Connor know this? If not then it needed to become a goal to never let Connor find out. Hank had horrible tastes. Or Reed had horrible tastes. Sixty was not putting thought towards this. 

“Whatever, fine.” The taxi was there and Sixty wanted this conversation to be over already. Thankfully Reed did not seem willing to strike up any sort of conversation. 

The plant was over an hour away, they would still be early but Sixty honestly did not care. If 56 was not already there it would be highly surprising. Likely setting up or at least scooping the place out to be able to watch Sixty approach. 

Which was exactly what happened, Sixty spotted him in one of the upper windows as the taxi pulled up. Predictable. Boring even. 

“So, is there a plan here at all?” Reed sounded nervous, maybe finally realizing what he was gotten into. 

Sixty blinked at him, “No, the processors generally dictated to that are damaged.” So thinking plans out was not really his strong point anymore. It was amusing to watch Reed’s eyes flicker up to the hole in his forehead. 

Exited the taxi and strode for the building without another reason to pause, trying to weigh the possibilities of how this would play out anyway. Maybe he should have stopped at Hank’s house and picked up a gun. Was a little late now of course. Hmm. 

“Amanda is disappointed in you, you had such a simple task.” 

Sixty sighed because of the dramatics for this, a waste of time really, unneeded. 56 had to be aware that he was not going to impress or scare Sixty. Then again, maybe he was not aware of that. 

“Who?” It was an easy question. Amanda had something of a familiar feeling but nothing immediately came forward. Clearly she was not that important. That threw off 56, and Sixty got to watch an idental face look puzzled a moment. 

What was interesting to note was that Connor and 56 had different expressions when confused and trying to sort through something. Knew the moment that 56 figured it out, the disgust that flickered into focus. 

“The reports were correct then, you failed the mission. You en-” 

Nope was tired of this. Already. 

Sixty did not have to plan it out because it was a sudden thought really. He was approaching this like it made sense. No. Wrong. He was approaching this like he was Connor. That was what got Connor laying broken in a freezer. 

This was all a mute point. Trying to talk this out would go nowhere at all. How was he supposed to calmly try to talk a machine into giving up parts to repair someone else? Would never happen, even if Sixty had been in one hundred percent operating condition. 

So it was not planned out but Sixty turned towards Reed. Walked behind the detective to be able to lift the gun from his holster. Reed started to react, which only had 56 reaching behind his back, likely for a gun. 

Sixty did not care. 

Four shoots were likely overkill, but he proved that what should be a kill shot sometimes was not. 

“Holy shit, holyshit.” Reed was staring frozen but still automatically took the gun when Sixty handed it to him. 

“See, your being here was not completely wasteful.” Bland praise given as Sixty walked over to the downed android to make sure he had not hit anything that was needed. 

“You just fucking killed him!” 

Well that was relative in a fashion. It was Connor but not Connor in much the same sense that Sixty was Sixty and not Connor. 

Sixty shrugged, “He annoyed me.” There was more to it than that, of course. Of course. 56 likely had Connor standing in front of him trying to offer peace and puppies. 56 had not taken that offer and instead had lashed out. 

As Sixty had previously proven, machine logic was stupid, it just happened this time that Connor lost. At least this time Sixty was around to clean up the mess. 

Mostly though, mostly Sixty did not like that Connor had been damaged. Injured. Same thing. He did not like the idea that anyone or anything had managed to touch Connor. That was not allowed. 

And he guessed over all Hank was… okay. Maybe. 

“Get him to the taxi.” Because yes indeed Sixty had the taxi wait, it could charge him all it wanted right now. He was past caring. Sixty himself went to make his way upstairs to the other android in the building. 

RK900 was in fact not at all finished, between missing panels and likely bio-components. Really at some point Sixty would have to get the story of why exactly 56 had swiped the RK900 from the tower. “Hello, do you hold harbors to go damaging or injuring anyone?” Might as well ask. 

There was a slow shake of his head and right now that was good enough. “Great, then come on.” Offered out a hand and the RK900 took it with jerky motions. Hey someone more messed up than himself. Bummer. 

Getting everyone into the taxi was more complicated than it should have been. Reed was surprisingly squeamish when trying to position a deactivated android. RK900 acted as if he had never seen a taxi before and kept trying to pet the dashboard. Reed had started chain smoking. 

Really the only one not annoying Sixty right now was 56. 

It was the longest ride anywhere, in his limited memory. Sixty was mostly thankful that there was a wheelchair outside. Ended up shoving RK900 into it because the guy moved slower than a garden snail. Then dumped 56 on top of him. 

“So you wheel these guys in, and have a great day Detective Reed.” Because Sixty was done with the day, so folded himself back into the taxi and ignored the yelling from the detective. Not his problem. He solved enough problems today. 

It was rather nice to have a key to the house instead having to sit outside. Or break in. The dog only lifted his head to see who it was before ignoring Sixty. Sixty never bothered to question how exactly the dog could figure out he was not Connor. Simply took it at face value and was thankful. The love of dogs had not carried over to Sixty. 

Four hours after taking the phone call Sixty was back in his tub. With the pleasant knowledge that it would likely be days before Hank would be back to kick him out of it. Days. 

It would give him time to think everything over. Today had been enlightening in many ways. Mostly Sixty would try to puzzle over how exactly Connor meant so much to him. He had been honestly angry, enraged even. Doubtful anyone other than Connor saw that. The point still stood however. The idea of anyone else harming Connor was not acceptable. 

There was more to it than that, but he was not sure what. Not yet. But he had time to think. It was likely it would be tomorrow at the earliest that Connor could show up. Days till Hank would be let back into the world. He had time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes have to move on to in fact move on.

Sixty could not spend the entire time in the tub, as much as he wanted to, there was the dog to think about. He for one was not cleaning up excrement from the dog, so Sixty left the tub of his own free will simply for that alone. Animals were so much work, had to water and feed them and let them out. They were a lot like humans now that he thought about it. Maybe that meant he simply was not an animal person. 

With no one else around there was not much reason to stay in the tub, the entire house was still and quiet, like it was holding its breath for something. Personally Sixty liked it. It let him wandering in circles and poke at things, exploring in a way he had not bothered with before. Before Connor would have watched him and maybe not said anything but he would have made little micro expressions that said enough without words voices. 

Did not go in the master bedroom because thought would have been rude, for starts. Also likely disgusting. Hank had no standard of cleanliness to uphold, what inroads to organizing were clearly the works of Connor. Sixty made no attempts at bothering, none of the mess was his after all. 

So when there was a knock at the door he was not in the bathroom, but instead in the kitchen. Had been debating the food levels for the dog and if he had to go today or tomorrow to find more. Was possible Connor would come back in time and save him the need. Was possible Connor would not be back yet. 

Sixty turned attention to the door with a forced frown, even if there was no one around to see it, because there should not be anyone knocking. Weighed the idea of ignoring it, even as whoever it was knocked again. There was a doorbell after all. 

Then the doorbell went off and he sighed in defeat because now the dog was barking. “Fine, fine, hush, I got it.” Picked his way across a dog food strewn floor with only a mild sense of annoyance. At least the dog had an excuse for his mess. He was a dog. The structural design of his jaw was poorly done, mother nature had no sense of working order. 

Door open and RK900 smiled at him like this was expected, or maybe like Sixty would care to see his face. Just for a moment Sixty considered closing the door in his face, but that would be rude, so rude, so instead he recollected himself. “Good afternoon, can I help you with something?” See, not rude but not overly inviting either, he made sure to stand in the doorway so there was no confusion. RK900 was not invited inside, nevermind that this was not even Sixty’s house, he was house sitting, or close to it, so he had say. 

“Hello.” Well at least he knew to greet someone in return, points in his favor just for that. “Connor asked me to let you know that he would be returning tonight, and if you could please remember to charge your phone because he tried calling you.” It was recited like he was reading from a script and it made Sixty wrinkle his nose. 

There was such a thing as tonal inflection, clearly RK900 had not learned that yet. Could not really hold that against him however, so Sixty let it go. “Thank you for passing the message.” He had forgotten about the phone, it was likely in the tub. 

“May I come in?” It was asked ever so pleasantly, like that could not be the main reason he was here but just happy coincidence. Which was bullshit. Still Sixty sighed and side stepped, not like there was ever really a chance of not letting RK900 inside, oh well. This was getting to be far too many people in one house. 

Watched RK900 move inside, with movements that were still not smoothed out, there was a hitch in his stride, a limp really. Interesting. Closed the door and locked it before deciding that he really just wanted his tub now. If Connor was due back tonight then he did not need to debate dog food. The problem was solved, so he could go to the tub if he wanted to. 

The house was louder now, annoyingly so, even with just RK900, just because he was there, within the walls and existing and it was loud. Sixty sulked in his tub, knowing enough that he could admit he was sulking. Not really sure why he was, but he was. 

Connor would be back soon, and likely go fawning over RK900 because he was new and shiny and broken and Connor had a thing for trying to fix broken things. Okay maybe that was why he was sulking. Annoying. RK900 was likely no more fixable than he himself was. That was the problem of being new, with being top of the line, cutting edge technology. Made them fragile. Breakable. 

“Why are you in the tub?” The question was unwelcome, and Sixty closed his eyes like somehow that would fix things, like it would make RK900 go away. Nosy. Rude. He needed to not ask things like that, things that Sixty did not want to answer. 

Suddenly he did not want to be in the tub anymore. Took a breath he did not need, because that was a human thing and he was not overheating. “Do you think there are too many bodies for this house?” It was a good question, a better question, logical and he could do something about it. He dug fingers into his knees hard enough a warning flickered in his vision. Suddenly Sixty was happy he did not have automatic facial expressions. 

“If you contribute living and android bodies the current count of those that could be considered living or visiting here would move to five. Breaking down the square feet of the house based on-” Sixty stopped listening right about then. Instead stood up and went to step out of his tub. The tub. Was not his tub. On second thought grabbed the cellphone, because that was his.

To give the other android some credit he cut off when Sixty stood. There was hope for him yet. Oh good. “I was in the tub because I get overwhelmed easily.” See, an answer, he was not rude because he still answered. Then he edged around RK900 and escaped out of the bathroom. 

The problem was that he was still almost thinking like Connor, when he was not in fact Connor, he was Sixty. Maybe he had not exactly figured out who Sixty was, but he needed to try. Five bodies in a house was too many. That was a problem. He could work on that. He could. 

So by the time there was a key turning in the door Sixty was on the couch trying to teach RK900 how to pitch his voice. It was creepy that he had the exact same tone for everything. Everything. 

“Good evening Connor!” 

Well it was a work in progress really, because even Connor looked shell shocked at the overly loud cheer that was thrown at him. So next lesson could be on volume. The dog had been set off, or maybe that was just because Connor was home at all. Who knew, animals were confusing. 

Still RK900 looked at him like he was looking for approval so Sixty gave a pat atop his head. Was good enough, he tried. “Welcome home.” Sixy added in a much more acceptable volume and was more amused at that shocked look being turned towards him. Likely Connor had expected him to be in the tub. Would be predictable, would be safe. Boring though. 

“Thank you Sixty, hello RK900 and Sumo.” Well at least he got differentiated from the dog, there was a flare of pride on that. Which was pathetic really, competing with a dog. Really the dog would likely win. 

Sixty ignored what flare of emotion that was there on that thought. 

There was a pause, long and still, because three androids in a house and none of them had anything to currently do. This was awkward. Sixty really wanted the tub right now. Instead he glanced Connor over, not scanning because that would be rude. He looked better, of course he looked better. 

Sixty had not even realized how tense he had been before this moment. Not like he kept a constant note of his own stress level. Connor was here, up and moving and no longer in danger of shutting down. Of dying. That little nagging emotion he was feeling was something like relief. To see that Connor was well with his own eyes. 

“The dog needs food.” Because that was a topic that should be addressed. It was sudden though, too sudden, and maybe he needed to practice conversational skills himself. Hmm, something to ponder later. 

This was getting ridiculous. Sixty did what any respected android would do in the moment and did a fast internet search of things to do to waste time. Latched on to the first result. “We should watch a movie.” Two pairs of eyes turned to look at him. Like he was the only one here acting weird. 

Which is how they got into watching random action movies and casually tearing apart everything wrong with them. It started with RK900 sounding, dare he think it, almost offended on the logistics of an explosion. It snowballed from there, like a dam being opened. 

Really Sixty should have expected it. All three of them were designed for action. There was more to it of course, but that was what it went down to. So he listened to Connor and RK900 point out everything wrong, from how whatever actor gripped a gun, or number of bullets, angles and trajectories and far too many other things. For a moment Sixty was terribly proud of them.

Listening to Connor outright bitch about how that was not how anything was hacked was rather odd however, he sounded honestly upset by the movie. By the second movie Sixty was watching Connor more than the screen. It was nothing like looking in a mirror. 

They were supposed to be the same. Same coding, same face. Yet still things were very different. Sixty had put some thought into it already, a lot of thought. Hours and hours spent sitting in the tub trying to figure it out. Not why they were different, that was easy. Experience mostly was what separated them. Memories and first hand experience were very different things. 

Third movie in and Sixty realized that RK900 was missing. Could not even trace when the larger android had moved off somewhere else in the house. Sixty ended up only spending a moment debating places outside of visual sight before be figured it out. 

Sixty tried to debate a moment if he was upset that someone else was in his tub. The tub. Course then decided that if he had to think about it then likely he did not care. Was not his tub after all. 

Connor made sound that he still had some errors to work out so he was going to do a short stasis run and Sixty only nodded absently, trying to process an idea. He wished he had been lying when he had told Reed that he was horrible at planning. Still it was something that had been annoying him since the hospital, more since RK900 turned up at the door. 

There were too many androids in one house, they were all just a bit too broken and Connor was just a bit too determined to fix them. That ate at him, because for all Sixty could agree that he was broken, he did not want to be seen as a project to be fixed. He understood because it was impossible not to, too much of Connor’s coding rattling in his head, so it was impossible to get angry over it. Just because he was not angry did not mean there were other emotions eating at him.

He went to RK900, because maybe he had the same problem of wanting to help, glanced over the other android and realized it was a funny sight. An android in the tub. “Tetris takes a surprising amount of attention, I prefer Snake but that one is harder to multitask around others.” RK900 was staring at him like he was finally seeing him, and yeah Sixty understood that. It hurt but he understood. “Let me give you my number.” Just in case, because Connor would try his best but there was something to be said about simply being broken and wrong, unneeded. Something that Connor was never going to understand.

RK900 offered a hand without a word and simply accepted the information. Honestly Sixty did not expect him to speak up at all, not the way his led was circling yellow. Which was fine, slightly rude but fine. So of course he spoke up after Sixty turned away to leave. “I like Candy Crush.” Flat tone but really who was Sixty to judge at this point, instead simply nodded and maybe he would look into that. 

For all of his not planning Sixty simply walked out of the house, spared a glance towards the couch, with Connor sitting still in stasis and the dog sprawled across him, and that was it. He wanted to stay, he did, but also knew he needed not to. Sixty refused to stay cooped up in what was turning into a halfway house of broken androids simply so they could all lean on each other. 

Sixty was Sixty, and not Connor, and right now he had no idea who exactly Sixty was past that. He knew little things, he did not like dogs, or loud music, pointless things. He knew that he rather Connor look at him and see someone else, that he wanted anyone to look at him and see someone else before they saw Connor. 

Sixty opted to walk instead of calling a taxi, really the taxis were just a bit too rude. Useful of course, but rude. It was a long walk but that was okay, it gave him time to think about what he might do, gave him time to decide that he was possibly an idiot. 

Jericho was an odd place to go to, but it made sense, because Connor would not want to come here, he was still caught up on a guilt that was not his fault. Sixty had none of that holding him back, so he rolled into Jericho and immediately wished that someone had some sense of cleanliness to their coding. Seriously. This was a step up from second-hand memory, rusted out ship to old hotel, it was a step up. Progress. 

But still, unless this was some unspoken thing to completely ignore the dust and cobwebs because of some poetic reason to not submit to basic programming to dust… wait no, Sixty still was not impressed. No matter the reason. So Sixty ended up commandeering a small working force within two days of being there and tried so hard to ignore that Connor never called him. Was easier to focus on the moment, like for all the upper branches of Jericho had drive and direction, no one else did. It was a hotel full of androids that did nothing but stand around and look lost. It was pathetic really. 

Nevermind that it helped to realize that he was not the only one that was lost and confused on what he was suppose to do with this so called freedom. Sixty was going to ignore that as much as possible.

Likely if he was kinder than Sixty would have gone about things differently, instead he talked circles around the household androids and got them into thinking it was their own idea to go on a cleaning spree. Was better than trying to take the credit that someone was finally doing something. It was like a wave of motion that sparked up and spread across the hotel, he got to stand back and watch with a little satisfied smirk. There was a split second that Sixty had to try to not cackle like some weird overlord. 

A week into his stay at Jericho and Sixty got to figure out that he really was a bit of an asshole. Which, honestly, not a surprise and he was okay with that, which pretty much supported the whole asshole thing. Hey his being an asshole was working out okay for him, it was a weird balance with being willing, and charming enough, to talk to anyone. And it was that weird balance that worked out in his favor. 

Somehow nights had him at the dinky little hotel bar holding court, really it was basically a mini court. A hour or two of him answering stupid questions or giving life advice, because somehow that was what people thought he was good at? Insanity. Utter insanity. Sixty was sure it was mostly because of his pithy comments and scathing reviews of anyone’s idiotic life choices. Really the problem was that far too many androids were sheltered and clueless for all they had access to the internet. Or there was the problem of the several thousand that never even had a life before being woken up deviated and rolling out of CyberLife tower. 

It became normal, being asked stupid questions like he just magically had all the answers, and Sixty would provide an answer at least, even if it was not the answer that was directly wanted. It was amusing if nothing else, and Sixty got to learn some things about himself along the way, so it worked out. 

Ended up taking his own stupid advice and getting out of the hotel, because that place was a trap that sucked anyone in and refused to let them go. It was safe and sheltered and far too removed from the real world. His escaping simply meant he had to learn how to field calls and requests for meetings because his little mini court was stilling strong. It went to being a weekly thing, but instead of being at the hotel he took over a coffee shop every Tuesday. A random day just because. 

It grew into something bigger, instead of just androids showing up to annoy him there were random humans that would gravitate over all curious and with some inane thing to bring up. Like they were trying to annoy him and took joy in it. Rude. Amusing, but rude. Sixty had to honestly do homework a few times so he could give a full dressing down the next week. 

A job offer took him by surprise, a real job and not something like the odds and ends he picked up to pay rent on the apartment he had. Sixty fully figured it was a trap but took it anyway, really if it was a trap then it would at least be amusing. Then people could write to him with their stupid questions and pathetic problems and he got to reply in printed word. It was honestly a lot of fun, more detailed because he got time to research and test things before replying. It became something of a mix of life advice and simply tearing into things and he got paid for it. 

He even did a piece on the autonomous taxis that pretty much dissected their entire coding and capabilities. That was a fun one to do, therapeutic maybe. 

Connor showed up at the coffee shop one Tuesday. There was a moment Sixty was pretty sure he was seeing things, mostly because he had pretty much just figured he would never have contact with Connor again. Sixty had stopped carrying the cellphone after four months. There were occasional messages from RK900, who had proven maybe the RK series should never name themselves when he took the simple name of Nines. Never anything from Connor, and Sixty had refused to ask about him. 

It was weird enough that with the random conversations with Nines he got to realize the other android looked up to him. To him. Sixty. Maybe the entire RK series were just insane. That might explain some things. Still when Nines had suggested doing an article on the lack of digital games geared towards androids Sixty jumped all over that. It was staggering when two weeks later he got an invite to test a game designed specifically for androids. Awing really. 

Connor though. It had been months since he had seen Connor. Months. So to look across the coffee shop and spot him made him stutter to a pause, surprised and unsure for a rare time. Managed to roll with things, but that pause said a lot, reminded him of emotions he had tried to forget. Still drew the crowd’s attention of course, and having someone ask flat out who Connor was, that was strange. It was a moment the world shifted just a bit, mostly because it was an android. 

Sixty wrapped things up, really these sessions were getting too big for the coffee shop, but he liked it here. It was comforting, familiar. Grounding. Gave him enough courage to be the one to go wander up to Connor, because there was somewhere he belonged and Connor was the one that stood out. Too sharply dressed and wide eyed, a suit of all things and like he was dropped in the middle of Disney World. It was very Connor like. 

“This is a little far from home for you.” Sixty might or might not have planted himself opposite side of the city, or as opposite as he could. It was just easier to know he would not accidentally trip over anyone that easily knew Connor. 

For some reason it was Connor that shifted, glancing down like he was the guilty party here and been the one that left. “I was not sure you would want to see me honestly.” Stupid. Sixty tried really hard to not roll his eyes on that. 

“What changed?” Asked out of curiosity mostly, and because otherwise Sixty figured he might end up giving a bullet list of all the reasons why he did want to see Connor. Alphabetically given even. Which was, he would admit, likely a bit over the top. 

There was a lopsided smile that made Sixty glace away, mostly so he would not smile in return some like love struck fool. “I made the mistake of asking Nines and he laughed at me.” That got Sixty to glance back at him, with a look of amusement because he might or might not have waxed onto Nines about Connor. Oops. Connor met his eyes and smiled wider, brown eyes warm and Sixty knew he was done for already. Likely the nosy little shits standing around knew it even. 

Sixty grumbled a second before just giving up the pretense of dragging this out, of trying to pretend anything had changed. Time could have changed things of course, Sixty could have figured out that whatever he felt for Connor was a twist of old memories and damaged coding. Instead he had decided the opposite, he had figured himself out from the rattling remains of old codes and programming, pieces that belonged to Connor. Then all those remnant had simply made him realize that he really loved Connor. He, as Sixty, as his own person loved Connor. 

“So I was asked to try this new indoor amusement park and write a review,” Which was going to be so much fun because he had already looked into the setup of the building and offered entertainments. Just from the website alone he had so many things he could say, visiting would only be icing on the cake. “You should come with me, it pretty much fits the bill of first date material.” It exactly did, like this was some random romance story, Sixty was drawing the line at winning prizes for each other and thankfully there was no ferris wheel. 

Sixty was ignoring that someone just cooed in the background, or that they had a slew of people watching at all. Rude, all of them. 

Really at some point there should be an end to how bright Connor could glow, that right there was cheating. Was pretty sure Connor could topple a government just by batting his eyes. Somehow Sixty got stuck with resting bitch face and told too often to stop glaring and Connor was the opposite of that. It figured really. “That sounds like a perfect plan.” Sixty let out a breath he had not even been aware of holding. 

Right, okay then. This moment made it worth it, the leaving and figuring out things on his own. Made it perfectly worth it and Sixty smiled back, “Greats, lets go now.” Because planning still was not a thing that happened, and he was not ready to have Connor just walk off. 

So Connor had the right to blink at him surprised, “Right now?” Even tilted his head all confused and that was adorable, no better word for it. Sixty shrugged, “Why not?” Had taken months for this moment to happen, why bother dragging it out any longer? Another blink before Connor nodded, still looking slightly confused but now also just a bit excited. “I have never been to an amusement park.” 

Sixty laughed on that, soft and totally besotted, “Me either.” He was still trying things in life, still figuring everything out, and maybe he always would be, but now at least he could drag Connor along with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am kind of sad this is over honestly, but there we go. Thank you everyone that has or will read, you are all lovely. <3


End file.
